


A Second Chance to Make a First Impression

by eternaleponine



Series: Ghosts That We Knew [13]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Deleted Scene, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was going on in everyone else's heads the first time the not-a-support-group group met, at the end of Chapter 6 of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/531381/chapters/942536">Ghosts That We Knew</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Second Chance to Make a First Impression

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



_Of course I'm first,_ Bruce thought. _I'm always first._ He could usually blame the fact that his last name started with B for that, but sometimes he thought that teachers, or adults with any kind of authority, had a sixth sense about who wanted to speak the least, and they always picked that person first. Although it looked like he wasn't the only one who might not be too thrilled about the idea of saying anything about themselves. Like the two in the corner, sitting on the couch together. They looked almost as excited to be here as he was. "Right." He ran his hand through his hair and then pushed his glasses up his nose; they were forever slipping down. 

What had Mr. Coulson asked them to say? Name, year... something else? "My name is Bruce. I'm a junior. Uh. I like science and math... and I don't usually like group projects." 

He shouldn't have said that last bit, he realized, but it was too late. The words were already out. He glanced at Mr. Coulson but the social worker's face didn't register any kind of reaction. Which maybe as a good thing, or maybe meant that he was making a mental note about him being uncooperative. But it wasn't that. It was just... he'd hoped maybe, after everything, he could just be left alone. New school, new start, right? So why was he being singled out? Why were they _all_ being singled out? He wasn't a leader. He would never be a leader. He just wanted to be left alone.

*

"My name is Tony Stark. I'm a sophomore but I take some of my classes at the local community college. I'm the smartest person I know, and the richest. I do not play well with others."

He said it because they expected him to say it. He knew what people saw when they looked at him, knew who they thought he was, and he might as well give them what they wanted. It was just easier. He smirked and crossed his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow and looking at them all expectantly... and hoped that someone would speak up soon because really, he didn't like being the center of attention.

Which he was sure would shock everyone, but it was true. Well, kind of true. Sometimes true. He didn't like being the center of attention unless he had something that he wanted people to see. Something to show off. Otherwise...

_Someone say something_ , he thought. _Someone say something_ now. Because the mask that he wore, the façade that he presented, it wasn't as easy to maintain as people might thing. Well, except people didn't think, because they didn't know. They thought what they saw was what they got, and he didn't like to let anyone down.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the guy next to him picked up the thread, and snuck a glance at Bruce. Science and math, huh? But just because he liked it didn't mean he as good at it, didn't mean he was smart. But maybe...

*

"I'm Thor," he said, smiling at all of them, trying to bring some positivity into the room. He didn't know most of the kids in the room very well, although he'd had a few classes with Steve over the years, and obviously he knew his brother. He'd stolen a Pop-tart from the guy on the couch once... which hadn't been very nice, now that he thought about it. He should probably apologize. Or buy him some Pop-tarts. Or both.

"I'm a senior, and the quarterback on the football team. I do like group projects and I do play well with others. It's nice to meet all of you."

There. That should do it. Keep it simple, put your best foot forward, put on a happy face (not that he wasn't happy, of course; his life was good and he knew it, he knew he should be grateful, and he _was_ grateful, really, but sometimes...) and never let them see you down.

That's what his father told him, and his coach. Don't show any weakness. So he didn't. And it made sense that he was here, if the social worker was looking for leaders; he'd always tried to be one, he'd always made sure to step up when it was necessary. If a volunteer was needed, he was there.

He just hoped that this wasn't going to take up a lot of _time_ , because he didn't have that much of it and...

Everyone was looking at him, and he wondered if he was grinning like an idiot or something, or if he'd trailed off mid-sentence. But maybe they just weren't sure if he was done, so he threw in one last thing to pass the baton, so to speak. "Oh, and Loki is my brother."

*

_Of course. Of course he made my existence all about him. Of course he did. Because it's not bad enough that I get defined by him, his accomplishments, by everyone else. It's not bad enough that it's always, 'Oh, you're Thor's brother!' with everyone else, he has to go and do it himself!_

"I'm not his brother," Loki snapped. "I'm adopted." Which he'd only just found out this past summer, and only because he found paperwork he was sure he was never supposed to see. It explained so much; it explained everything, really, about why he'd never quite felt like he fit, why he'd always been second best with their father. He wasn't his _real_ son, and it had been there in the way that he treated them all along. He'd just never known why.

"I'm Loki, I'm a sophomore, and I hate school. I'm also tired of living in the shadow of the golden boy." He glared at his brother, looking for a reaction, but of course there wasn't one. Thor didn't care what was said about him; he was secure in his position at the head of the pack, the top of the pyramid with no one's knee dug into his back, if one was looking for a jock metaphor to use. 

It didn't matter what he did, how good he was at it, Thor would always be better, and anything he did to set himself apart would inevitably get drawn back to his brother – no, _not_ his brother – somehow. He hated it. 

Then again, he hated just about everything these days.

"If you hate school, what do you like?" Mr. Coulson asked. 

"Drama," Loki said. 

He meant drama club, but let them take it as they chose. He didn't care.

*

Steve's eyes flickered back and forth between the brothers, saw the animosity in the younger one's eyes, the flashes of anger and... betrayal, maybe? there. He wondered if they had any idea how lucky they were to _be_ brothers, to have someone who always had your back, who had grown up with you and who probably knew you better than you knew yourself, at least some of the time.

He'd never had that. It had just been him and his mom and dad... and now just him and his mom... and sooner rather than later, it would just be him. But he tried not to think about that. Especially not now, with everyone looking at him, waiting for him to introduce himself.

"I'm Steve," he said. "I'm a senior, and my favorite subject is art. I'm sure no one will agree with me, but I think this group is a good idea." He sat up a little straighter, expecting all of them to come back at him telling him how wrong he was. It was pretty obvious that with the possible exception of Thor, none of them really wanted to be here.

Which he could understand, of course. It was hard to be forced into a group of people that you didn't know and told that you had been specifically selected by the school social worker and possibly others to be part of a group that was going to be leaders among their peers.

Steve didn't really feel like much of a leader, but maybe he could be, if he tried. He was used to stepping up to take up the slack when things weren't getting done. He'd been taking care of his mother for years without complaint, and he didn't mind it. Really, he didn't, and who else was going to do it? Sure, he had aunts and uncles but they were busy with their own lives.

And maybe when worse came to worst, he would at least have this to focus on.

*

It was her turn. She knew what she was supposed to say, knew that Mr. Coulson would very likely cut her slack if she didn't say much, but the thought of saying anything at all to this group of strangers, the thought of all of them looking at her (more than they were already looking at her, considering that she was the only girl there, and new, and therefore all eyes kept coming back to her, or at least she felt like they did), listening to her speak and wondering where she was from, why she was here...

Her mouth dried until her tongue was sandpaper and her throat felt like it was being squeezed closed from the outside. Not that she knew what that felt like. She kept her hands clenched in her lap to not fuss with the high collar of her sweater.

It was Clint who saved her. Again. But she couldn't think about that either, about who he was and who he could have been, the impossibility of it all now... She clamped down on the thoughts, shoved them away.

"I'm Clint," he said. "I'm new here. I'm a sophomore, I guess. And this is Natalia. She's a freshman." 

Natalia. Not Natasha. He'd given them her real name, the one that was for everyone, the one that she was called at home (when they bothered with her name at all, which wasn't often) and not the familiar form, not the one she'd given him, and she realized then that he understood. He actually understood what she'd done, what the difference was, what it meant.

And she hated him for it, because he'd rejected her and now... 

She clenched her jaw, swallowed hard, and nodded at him because he was looking at her, waiting for her approval on what she said, so she nodded, and then he turned his attention to Mr. Coulson, but she didn't hear what was said after that, because her thoughts were elsewhere, her focus on mind over matter, head over heart. It was the only way she would ever make it through.

**Author's Note:**

> For [OneGoodEye](http://archiveofourown.org/users/OneGoodEye/pseuds/OneGoodEye), who asked to know what Tony (or someone) was thinking when they all first met.


End file.
